The Autumn & Winter of My Life
by konnistique
Summary: Jounouchi dies again, but this time in Kaiba's arms. And there's something terribly wrong with that scene. -Introspective piece


Kaiba/Jounouchi; one-shot; pg-13; angst/drama;

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything except the plot.

_Jounouchi dies (again), but this time in Kaiba's arms. And there's something terribly wrong with that scene._

**Note:** This originally, was only the first part (drabble), but then I decided to write a companion piece to it and piece them together. This is not really your average one-shot. I had no thoughts of plot or thorough characterization in mind when I wrote this. This is an **introspective** piece. It's supposed to be disjointed and fragment-like. I tend to write like this anyway. If you don't approve, you can look for your fairy-tale stories elsewhere! But otherwise, I hope some of you enjoy literary prose :) And it's not as dark as it appears to be!

**Note 2:** The 'again' in the summary should be in brackets because in reference to the series, he 'died' during the duel against Marik in Battle City.

-—-—-

**The autumn of my life (and you've gone ahead)**

**

* * *

**

I regret the moment we met  
and the way you pretended.  
I regret the sun that day,  
its warmth so artificial,  
and I regret the way pain  
has taught me nothing.

_~RSVP Regrets Only, Linda Pastan_

-—-—-

**(Let's start at the end)**

And together they whisper—

Jounouchi's hand feels ice cold in his grasp. He squeezes it as if his own warmth can somehow transfer into the numb fingers he's holding. His other hand is placed right over the—_beating, (slow) beating_—which beats crimson under his touch (and his own skips a beat for the person lying before him). There's something terribly wrong with this scene.

Cerulean blue meets chocolate brown through the drizzle in the air. They both try to blink away the blur (was it just the rain?). _Don't tell me if I'm dying. _A choked voice shatters the silence (and his heart). _You're not going to die, _he wants to say (but would that be lying?). _Help is on the way,_ he tries again (but is it, really?). _I won't miss you _(of course not). That dies on his tongue too. So, he settles for, _there's something terribly wrong with this scene._

A smile ghosts upon the others face (the only warmth he managed to salvage)._ You can say that again._ And the hand drops from his hold (everything within him plummets with it). The slight breeze carries with it nothing (but)—

—_'Goodbye, goodbye',_ in the falling mist.

-—-—-

**The winter of my life (and somehow I've left you behind)**

* * *

Your absence has gone through me  
Like thread through a needle.  
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

_~Separation, W.S. Merwin_

-—-—-

**(The beginning of the end)**

It's not 'goodbye' so much as it is 'see you later', but somehow he just knows that the other won't—

Kaiba's staring down at him, one hand holding his in a tight grip (reassurance that this is real, perhaps). It feels strangely warm, but the heat doesn't seem to channel any further than his icy fingers. The only indication he's alive seems to be the fact that he's painting the road scarlet beneath him (but whether he's supposed to dye the ground this much, he isn't sure). There's something terribly wrong with this scene.

Chocolate brown meets cerulean blue through the drizzle in the air. Jounouchi blinks in time with his (slowing) pulse—one, two, three, five (did it just skip one?). Inwardly, he's laughing at the irony of the situation. It feels like he's at the airport, about to depart for some long trip and he isn't sure how to (want to) say goodbye. _I'll write_, he jokes out loud. He's sure the—_drip, drip_—of the rain is laughing with him. _To where? My dreams?_ The other rolls his eyes but humors him nonetheless (there's nothing else he can do). _Yeah._ Jounouchi breathes out, imagining piles of unsent letters and returned postcards (almost too many promises he's sure to fail to deliver). _Idiot._

There's uncertain silence for a minute, then Kaiba continues (as if it's not a game anymore). _Then make sure you leave a return address._

Neither says anything more for awhile after that (like that's all they really needed to hear). Jounouchi concentrates on breathing—a breath is but a breath still, that remains as one of two ties he has left on this world (the other is holding his hand). _Don't tell me if I'm dying_, he manages to croak. Because he won't be (he'll be stubborn to the end; being a gambler at heart, he's willing to throw in his last stake). _There's something terribly wrong with this scene, _Kaiba echoes his thoughts, and he smiles to that (one last miracle before the next beginning). _You can say that again_.

Raindrops fall into his eyes and suddenly even blinking hurts (maybe he'll just rest them for awhile—_only_ a while). I'll be okay, Kaiba, he tries to say something the other doesn't hear . I'll be okay. I'll just—

—be awake in a minute.

* * *

-—-—-

**(The beginning, at last)**

(And the next time Jounouchi opens his eyes, he sees fresh cut lawn, sunshine after the rain, and a relieved smirk he still really wants to punch off Kaiba's face.)

* * *

**A/N:** Watching Yu-Gi-Oh does strange things to me. So does piano music. Questions? Sorry, but I don't have many answers. I can't specifically tell you the relationship between these two. My main purpose is an attempt at an introspective piece, so there isn't enough of a plot to establish any sort of relationship. It's about how YOU look at it—brothers, best friends, acquaintances, rivals or lovers. I've never written these two together either, but they have interesting dynamics! :) Hopefully I'll have inspiration to write more!

Comments and reviews are appreciated as always! I'd like to know what you think of literary proses or introspective pieces.


End file.
